Ghost From The Past
by Midnightingale
Summary: Wolverine meets a Ghost from his past. Will she help him beyond the beast that was Weapon X? Based where the first movie left off but adding some of my favorite characters. Young Remy appears in this fic cos I love him. R&R Please.
1. Default Chapter

((Disclaimer ))   
  
I do not own Wolverine, or the X-Men. Marvel Comics owns all rights. I did not write this fan-fic for personal gain, or money. I am publishing it on the World Wide Web for others to read and enjoy, not to make a profit of any kind. Even if anyone does want to sue me it wouldn't do any good. I'm poor. The character of "Ghost / Marilyn" and her personality traits are my personal creations. And any other person without prior permission may not use her. I do realize, of course, that her name is not my copyright. But I do ask that no one write a character exactly like mine with the same name and or personality traits.   
  
((Author's Note))  
  
I hope you enjoy this story. It'll probably be somewhat of a lemon. I started it a long time ago, and have recently resolved to finish it. Please read and review. It starts on the next page because I hate how Fanfiction.net won't let me name the first chapter. So, go ahead flip the page and start reading.  
  
Will maim for reviews. If you want to e-mail me write to TheKuroneko26@yahoo.com or my alternate e-mail Midnightingale26@yahoo.com. I check both of them everyday. 


	2. Part One: They Meet

Part One: They Meet  
  
A battered pickup plowed its was across the frozen roads of Northern Canada. Logan sat in the driver's seat urging the automobile ever forward, and occasionally muttering under his breath. The heat was off and his breath hung in the air, mixing with the smoke from his cheap cigar. He had been driving for hours, but the strain had not, and would not catch up with him. But still, he knew a town was coming up fast, he was in the mood for a beer, and a bite to eat. It was a no nothing town in upper Manitoba, the kind of place that naturally attracted vagrants, ruffians, and occasionally the odd mutant, like Logan himself.   
  
Logan hid it well though. He was lucky to at least look like a normal human, but that didn't stop his bad attitude, and loner tendencies. He was suspicious of everyone, sometimes cruel and brutal, but with an animal charm all his own. He was dressed in his typical get up, boots, ragged jeans, layers of shirts, a jean jacket, and over that a beat up brown leather coat. He looked feral to say the least, his hair coming up into points on either side of his head, and extending from sideburns to a gruff, seldom trimmed beard that graced the sides of his jaws, but leaving his chin and upper lip with only a little stubble. His brown eyes sparkled with wildness, with a potential danger that no one would ever realize until it was to late.   
  
His truck crunched over the rock salt in the parking lot of a very seedy looking bar.  
  
"Just my kind of place." he thought to himself as he stepped out into the cold Canadian winter. Snow fell around him leaving its cold kiss to freshen his senses. He breathed in deeply letting the frigid air enter his lungs, and clean out the last reaming traces of the lingering tobacco smell. He started for the door of the bar; his boots crunching on the snow and salt covered pavement, as he entered the dive.   
  
All at once his senses were assaulted with the strong smell of beer, whiskey, sweaty bodies, vomit, urine, and strangely enough the hint of sweet rose perfume. He sat on a rickety barstool, and took in his surroundings. A group of fat rig drivers huddled next to an old potbellied stove, smoking and jabbering away about something or other, two thinner boys were sitting further down on the bar trading shots, one looking the worse for wear, and the other cackling happily. A small TV was on in the upper left-hand corner of the bar, it had a bad picture but the sound came in good enough, two men looking Logan's apparent age were whooping at a hockey game and jittering in French. The only thing missing from the scene was the barkeep.   
  
This exact thought had just passed Logan's mind, when the door opened, and a new addition to the bar entered covered in numerous layers of clothing, including a dark blue scarf wrapped around her head.   
  
"Bloody hell, it's freezing out there." It was only when she talked that Logan realized two things, A, she was a female, and B, she definitely wasn't Canadian. She also appeared to be the bartender, because after she had striped of her layers, hanging three sweaters and a leather coat on the rack by the stove, she gracefully swayed behind the bar letting the swinging door flap behind her on old hinges. She was now wearing only a white tank top, blue jeans in a state of dubious wear, a belt with a large buckle, and cowboy boots. Her hair was long sun bleached light brown and bedraggled from a toboggan. She looked straight a Logan as he sat at the bar taking the sight of her in.  
  
"Krikie, I hope you haven't been waiting long mate." Logan shook his head. "Well these blokes should have told you that it was okay to get yourself a drink. Bloody bastards don't care to talk to strangers much though." She gave the room a scathing eye, and they all seemed to quiet down for a moment. After all it was she who controlled the flow of the liquor.   
  
"I'll have a beer." Logan simply said, and she obliged by producing a Fosters from a little refrigerator under the bar.  
  
"Hey, Marilyn, did the Randle boy make it home without puking?" One of the truckers asked from across the room.   
  
"Nah, He didn't chuck till he was 'alf way to 'is door. You bastards shouldn't have let the poor thing get all pissed like that." She looked at Logan again, and smiled. "I had to take one of the locals home, poor kid got pissed."   
  
"I understand." He wasn't looking at her; he was staring at his beer. His brown eyes lowered from the whole room, as if he were brooding. He was thinking, he could tell the woman was Australian, but he was also wondering how she came to end up in the frozen north. He shut his eyes briefly not hearing the things going on around himself. A loud bang from the door caught his attention. Another wayward traveler had just entered the bar. Logan looked around to see a monster of a man standing in the doorway, wearing little more than a tee shirt, a pair of pants, and ratty sneakers, with no socks.  
  
"Yo, Marilyn. What's the fucking deal running out on me last night!" The guy seemed cheesed, Logan sensed trouble, and it was directed at the barkeep. He turned to get a better look at him. Marilyn didn't back down; she stood her ground and started cursing at the man in her native slang.  
  
"You bloody bastard! You wanker! I'm the one who should be angry. I saw you with that bluey from the diner. You fucking yobbo! You fucked her didn't you? Didn't you!"   
  
The pieces were falling together for Logan now. The big guy with the chip on his shoulder was the barkeeps "boyfriend" and apparently not very faithful. The meager crowd at the bar started filing out, but he remained. She was such a pretty thing, and he'd be damned if he let anything happen to her.   
  
"God, I'm getting to be such a softie." He thought to himself. The argument played on, and neither of them paid any attention to him, as caught up in the moment as they were.   
  
"You damned Aussie piece of trash." he had come up close to her now and was staring down at her from the other side of the bar counter: madness, and drunkenness, making him lose all reason. "You fucking bitch." He spat at back at her, then made the swift move to slap her, but Logan was ready. He reached up and grabbed his hand, and quickly twisted it behind his back.  
  
"That's no way to talk to a lady." His voice was low and deep, almost a growl. "I think you better get out of here before you piss me off too, Bub."   
  
"This don't concern you asshole!" the guy roared out, but Logan just twisted his arm tighter, making the drunk grit his teeth in anguish.  
  
"Don't make me break it."   
  
"Fuck you buddy!"   
  
That was when Marilyn saw the flash. Her "boyfriend" had pulled his hunting knife out of the sheath by his side. Logan hadn't seen it because he had been at the wrong angle.   
  
"Look out!" She screamed. Logan spun him around and suddenly seven-inch metal claws had the boyfriend pined against the bar. The hunting knife fell harmlessly to the floor. Logan backed off a little once the man had pissed his pants. A hot stream of urine staining the front of his pants and trickling down to the floor.  
  
"W…what are you?" the man stuttered out.  
  
Logan let out a low growl.   
  
"What do you think I am? I'm a mutant asshole, and no ones gonna hit a girl when I'm around." The "boyfriend" started whining and choking back sobs. Logan's claws slipped back into his hands with a quick movement, faster than the eye can see. "You're not even worth the effort. Get out 'a here." He growled. And with that Logan let him go. The boyfriend literally bolted for the door, staggering as he went, and was gone. Logan then turned to Marilyn, and looked at her.  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked sincerely. She was standing back a ways holding her arms around herself, and shivering. She blinked before she looked at him.   
  
"Yeah, just cold." Logan was at a loss. He was expecting her to freak out about his talent, but she didn't seem to be that all concerned about him. "Thanks mate." She said at length. Logan took off his jacket and approached her; she let him drape her shoulders with his coat, and then looked at him.   
  
"No problem." Was all he managed, still puzzled.  
  
"He would'na 'ave hurt me though." She said somewhat distant.  
  
"Oh," He said lifting one eyebrow, "why's 'at?"  
  
She looked down at Logan's half finished beer and smiled. She extended her hand and waved it right through the bottle as if it were air.   
  
"Because I would 'ave seen it coming." Logan smiled at that. He knew then what he was dealing with. A fellow mutant, and a gorgeous one at that. "Look I've got to get out of 'ere, I ain't got a workin' car, an if I know Sol, 'e'll be back, and next time with the cops, or somthin' worse."  
  
"You're probably right, lets jet. I'll get you outa here."   
  
  
  
Logan led the way across the parking lot to his truck. Marilyn followed him pulling on a sweater and carrying their coats. They piled into the truck and speed out of the parking lot, with Logan at the wheel. There was an extended silence as they both let their blood cool. For Logan it took longer, but it was Marilyn who finally broke the calm.  
  
"You got a name mate?"  
  
"Yeah, it's Wolverine."  
  
"What kind of name is that?"  
  
Logan looked at her from the corner of his eye.  
  
"It's the only name you get till I can figure you out."  
  
"I'm not to hard to figure out mate. M' names Marilyn."  
  
Logan remained silent, as he lit a cigar, and cracked the window. Marilyn busied her self by putting on her coat and lying Logan's in the space between them. The silence between them wasn't your sort of uncomfortable one that leaves both parties sweating. They had already unconsciously developed an easy manner with each other. Realizing how far to push a topic and when to back off. Logan looked over at her again, and breached the quiet.  
  
"So what is it exactly that you can do?"  
  
"All sorts of things mate. But it's all interrelated. For instance, I can become invisible, transparent, or as you see me now. In each three forms I can either move through things or, be as solid as the ice on the road. It's a pretty cool power, but sometimes it's kinda hard livin' like a ghost."  
  
"I know what you mean. Listen, you got any reason to go back there? Any family or anything?"  
  
"No, why where you heading?"  
  
"New York, to see some friends of mine. You can't go back to the bar, and something tells me you can't go back to Australia either."   
  
She didn't say anything about his theory. They both knew he was right.   
  
"You're one of them aren't you mate?"  
  
"One of what?"  
  
"You're one of the X-Men."  
  
"How do you know about the X-Men?"  
  
"Word gets around if ya know the proper channels."  
  
"Such as…?"  
  
"A mate of mine sent one o' her kids to the school, after he started showin' signs."  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Bobby."  
  
"I know him, he's the Iceman."  
  
"He's a good bloke."  
  
There was another pause in their conversation. Blue cigar smoke blew out the window, as Logan puffed away. His hands rested on the steering wheel slowly moving right and left with the contours of the snow covered road. The air was chill with the cracked window but Marilyn wasn't complaining she was watching his hands, and thinking.  
  
"Been livin' like a ghost for so long." She said after some time had passed. Logan looked over at her.  
  
"What?"  
  
"If I'm goin' t' New York I'm leavin' me behind. I need to start over. I need a new name. I been a ghost a long time, might as well call me that t' your mates."  
  
"Al right, Ghost it is then." 


	3. Part Two: What a Trip

Part Two: What a Trip  
  
They had been driving for hours. Marilyn had long since fallen asleep, and they had yet to cover more than half the distance to Westchester. She was curled up next to the window with Logan's jacket draped over her small frame. He couldn't help but watch her sleeping. So peaceful, not full of nightmares, half-remembered memories of a life lived so long ago. Half memories, he couldn't hold onto, the line between reality, and fantasy always fading thinner in his dreams. He hardly ever slept, but it was refreshing to watch someone he considered so innocent, sleep. He kept telling himself that she must have demons too. One just doesn't end up halfway around the world it they're not running from something. He wondered what is was that had made her leave her homeland for the ignominy of a Canadian bar. Like himself, he doubted she liked to talk about it, whatever it was. He forced himself to stop thinking about her, he was starting to grow tired himself, and if he let his mind wander his hand on the wheel would wonder too. Albany was coming up. Time to stop.  
  
He hated to wake her, but the room was booked and she'd freeze if he left her in the truck. He leaned across the cab, and placed his hand gently on her shoulder to try and wake her up softly. It didn't work, as soon as she felt his presence her eyes opened in a flash and she disappeared, only to reappear a moment later blushing. He was impressed with her quick reflexes, and for a moment he doubted her sleep had been as peaceful as he had first imagined. Her eyes blinked at him, and she proceeded to rub the sleep out of them.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"Albany. I got us a room."  
  
"How long 'ave I been asleep?"  
  
"Just a few hours. I need rest, so we're stopping for the rest of the night."  
  
"That's fine." She smiled up at him as she opened the door to get out.  
  
The air was cold, below zero. Marilyn shivered and Logan made the bold step and put his arm around her.  
  
"We've got the only room left. It only has one bed, so I'll sleep on the floor."  
  
She nodded and leaned against him as he led the way to the room. It was cozy for a motel. It even came stocked with a small refrigerator, and the bed was nice and squishy. Marilyn hopped up on the bed and lay down on her stomach, propping her head up with her hands. Logan sat in a chair by the TV counter.  
  
"So tell me bout where we're going."   
  
"It's in Westchester, New York. Xaviar's school for gifted youngsters. But the school is just the public face. What it really is, is a place for all mutants to come together. To learn how to better use their powers, and fight for causes they believe in."  
  
"What is it you fight for then, mate?"  
  
Logan laughed. Marilyn didn't exactly understand why. She gave him a puzzled look.  
  
"Honey, I'm to busy fighting myself to get to involved with what the X-men are striving for." She looked at him puzzled again, but she could tell he didn't want to talk about it. So instead she asked another question.   
  
"Will this Xaviar be able to help me?"  
  
"I don't know. He'll keep the police from getting you, that's for sure, but you seem to have a pretty good grasp on your powers."  
  
"What's 'e like?"  
  
"He's a good man, who generally want's to help people."  
  
"Is 'e helping you?"  
  
"He's trying to."  
  
"You wanna talk about it mate?"  
  
"There's not that much to talk about."  
  
"I understand how it is mate. I got things I'm hiding too."   
  
With that said she rolled over on the bed and snatched a pillow. She launched it at Logan, laughing. He caught it before it hit his face.  
  
"Why I…" He growled playfully, jumping out of the chair toward the bed brandishing the pillow. Marilyn meet his swing with the other cushion knocking him upside the head. His pillow knocking her sideways on the bed. They were both laughing like children. By now Logan had crawled on the bed and they were whacking the feathers out of the pillows. The soft down flew about the room and fell like snow, getting tangled in their hair, and making Logan sneeze. They were both out of breath after the mock fight. And Logan collapsed on the bed in a pretending to pass out, still laughing. Marilyn sat up leaning against the headrest, and gently prodded him with her foot. He grabbed her foot and pulled her down the bed, as she whooped. He was smiling as he pined her to the bed with his arm across her chest, leaning over her, his weight on his other arm. They were now tete-a-tete, and looking into each others eyes.   
  
"You're a strange kind of bloke, Wolverine." Marilyn said as she stared into his soft brown eyes.  
  
"It's Logan." He said as he leaned down to her.   
  
"Logan." She repeated before they kissed.   
  
His lips brushed against her soft mouth. They lingered there savoring the smoothness of her perfect lips. He could smell her perfume, roses. It smelled so familiar, like he had smelled it before not just when he had entered that bar, which in it's self seemed a lifetime ago. Her hand reached up carefully and caressed the side of his jaw. Her delicate fingers winding up into his hair. Logan kissed her deeper, a little rougher. Their tongues meet in the soft folds of her mouth, tasting each other for the first time. Marilyn's free hand moved up his shoulder tugging at his coat. The brown leather creaked as she pulled it off him. He tossed it off the bed, never once breaking their kiss. It seemed as if air its self was no longer important. Marilyn pulled off her own jacket and cast it aside. They continued to remove their upper clothing until Logan had no shirt and Marilyn was only in the little white tank top she had been in earlier. They had stopped kissing to look at each other, to explore their intermingled bodies. Her fingers were now free to stroke the sides of his strong arms. Her hand moved around to his back and dug in gently. Logan growled in pleasure, as he flipped her on top of himself.  
  
Now his hands were free to roam. He cupped the side of her head, and felt her chin move into he palm of his hand. Those hands, those hands that could be so deadly. Hands that had been drenched in blood far to many times. Too many times to count.  
  
A flash! A green light, bubbles in champagne, or are those bubbles in front of my eyes. Someone is laughing. Why are they laughing?. I'm drowning... I can't breath! I can't breathe!  
  
"Logan… Logan!" Marilyn was shouting at him. She sounded so far away, but she was right in front of him. He could see her now.   
  
Logan shook his head, gently pushing the now frantic woman off him. The color of passion had drained from his face, and he was a pale as a wraith. He placed a hand on the side of his head, and shut his eyes. She was still calling his name, gently now.  
  
"Logan. Logan what's wrong. Logan…" her voice was a whisper. Marilyn's soft blue eyes flecked in gold were pleading with him to tell her what was wrong.   
  
"I feel as if someone just walked over my grave." He muttered standing up.   
  
"Sit down." She commanded in her soft Australian voice.  
  
Logan did as he was told, preferring not to think. He hated anyone seeing him weak like this. But what choice did he have. The dreams were now invading his waking hours. He should have never gone back to that place. All he found there were more questions.   
  
Marilyn wrapped a blanket around his muscular shoulders. He sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. She had stopped trying to talk to him. Their had been such pain present in his features that she was almost convinced that she did not want to hear his story. So, she sat with him. Not saying a word. Twenty minuets had passed since his spell, and for that whole time he had sat as he was now. Trying desperately not to remember, and yet wanting to know everything so bad. After a while Marilyn broke the silent tension.  
  
"Look mate. I think you should rest."   
  
Logan chuckled. "Do you know what will happen, if I sleep?"  
  
"No mate, I don't."  
  
"Nightmares. Black ones. Ones that make it impossible to ever truly rest." She was silent as Logan unsheathed his claws. "A long time ago, they did this to me. And I don't remember a thing about it. Only when I dream. Now those dream are invading my waking world."  
  
"Don't talk bout it love. Won't do any good."   
  
"You're right. It won't solve a thing. Truth is. I don't want to remember anymore. I don't want to know why they did this to me. I don't want to remember who I was."  
  
"Does it hurt, mate? When they come out?"  
  
"Every time. But I'm not sure what's worse. I can't even remember if they forced me to do it. The scary part is, what if I wanted them? Because it's been so long now, that I can't even imagine life without them."   
  
"I don' know what to tell you. I have no good advice. I can't even keep my life straight, so that makes me a poor sort t' give advice to others. All I can say is that no matter what happened to you, or who you were, it's the hear and the now that matter. The past is just what it is, past. So, there's no use frettin' over things you can't change. Ya just got to make the best of it, and move on with your life."  
  
"You know, that's actually the best advice I've gotten so far."  
  
"You can't listen to me on this one, mate. Ya got to follow your own instincts."  
  
Logan flopped back on the bed, exhausted. Marilyn went to leave him, to maybe sleep in the chair, but he grabbed her arm and looked up at her.   
  
"Look, I want you to stay, but..."  
  
"But what mate?"  
  
"If I dream, whatever you do don't try and wake me. Just slip out of bed."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because like I said, I have black dreams, and I could hurt you."  
  
"Alright Logan, I understand." 


	4. Part Three: Moving In

Part Three: Moving In  
  
Logan's truck pulled down the drive at Westchester, New York. Bare trees grew in a skeletal canopy over the road. Marilyn looked out the window with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. There were children playing in the snow on the front lawn. The mansion its self was a large warm looking building, a friendly atmosphere surrounded it like a child in its mother's arms.   
  
As Logan pulled into the main garage Marilyn noticed that someone had been following the automobile. As the figure approached she realized that it was a young girl dressed in a black coat, trouser pants, and leather gloves. She also noticed that a white streak flowed from her forehead and mingled into the rest of her auburn hair.  
  
"Logan!" She shouted, as he exited the cabin.   
  
"Hey." He said as she pounced him in a hug.  
  
"Ah knew you'd come back. I just knew it."  
  
"I told you I would."  
  
As Marilyn got out of the truck, it dawned on the girl that Logan had brought someone with him.  
  
"Rogue, this is Ghost." He said as a matter of introduction. Rogue reached out her gloved hand, and Marilyn shook it.  
  
"G'day. It's nice to meet you."   
  
Rogue giggled, presumably at Marilyn's accent. "Its nice tah meet you too." Then she turned back to Logan. "Are you going tah take her to see the Professor?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He's got a class right now, but it let's out in about ten minuets."  
  
"Thanks hon."  
  
"Well, hey I have to go, Bobby's waiting for me." Marilyn's ears perked up at the mention of Bobby's name, and unconsciously she scanned the front yard for some small sign of the boy she used to know. Logan watched her silently for a moment. Then turned to watch Rogue dash away.  
  
"Come on. I'll take you to see the Professor."  
  
Logan led the way down the main oaken hallway. Voices could be heard behind doors, Laughter, children's voices. Logan stopped in front of a large door, and knocked softly, then turned to Marilyn and smiled softly.  
  
"Come in." The voice called from behind the door. Logan entered with Marilyn at his heels.   
  
"Ah, Logan. how are you?" He came from around his desk sitting in his wheelchair, with a smile on his face.  
  
"Professor." Logan nodded.   
  
"Hello, Marilyn. Good of you to join us."  
  
"G'day. Um…" She blinked at him. Not knowing what to say. He had known her name, and taken her off guard, whether he meant to or not. The Professor smiled.   
  
"I must apologize. My name is Professor Charles Xaviar. Welcome to my school for the gifted."  
  
"How… how did ya know m' name?"  
  
"As I told Logan once before, you're not the only one with powers."  
  
"I see."  
  
"This place is a haven. A place where you no longer have to hide what you are. Where you can finally be yourself."  
  
"What's the catch?" She eyed him suspiciously.   
  
"No catch. We are what you see. I know how hard it is for you to trust people. But it's not like that here." Logan watched her closely, as she took in what the Professor was saying. He had been right about her she was hiding something. He wondered if, in time, she would tell him. The Professor continued. "Our goal here is to educate, the students as well as normal people. Perhaps in time our cause will be your cause."   
  
Marilyn wasn't sure if he was talking to her or Wolverine at that moment. The last statement seemed to be directed to the both of them. Then, there was a knock on the door.   
  
"Please come in Jean." The door opened and Dr. Jean Grey stepped through. She was wearing a blue business suit, and doctor's lab coat. "Jean this is Ghost, I want you to make her feel at home while she is staying with us." Something passed between Logan and the woman. Marilyn didn't have to be a mind reader to see that Jean was attracted to Logan. She felt suddenly very possessive of the man she had shared a few tender moments with, snuggled safe in a hotel bed with his strong arms wrapped around her. She vividly remembered him twitching in his sleep. Of him unconsciously clutching her close, of his muffled gasps, and his flickering brown eyes when he awoke to find her still next to him. The tears present in his eyes, and a silent knowing that in that moment she had probably seen more of the man than any ever had. And then he had slept, still holding her. The first fair dinkam sleep he had had in years. For that one twilight his nightmares had ceased completely, and he knew it was because of her.   
  
"Logan, it's good to see you back." Jean's greeting was cold, and Marilyn inwardly rejoiced.   
  
"Doctor." Was Logan's only words to her.  
  
"Will you please show Ghost to a room." Charles spoke to Jean, then turned to Marilyn. "After you get settled in we will talk some more."   
  
Jean turned to leave with Marilyn. Logan started to follow, but the Professor stopped him.  
  
"Logan, will you please remain behind for a moment." He watched as the two women left the room. His soul seemed to sadden as Marilyn left the room. She seemed a tad distraught at leaving him behind, but he nodded at her, as she left. Something silent passed between them, call it awareness, for they are both not mind readers. "Tell me Logan, did you find what you were looking for?"   
  
"That depends. I found something, not necessarily what I was looking for."  
  
"Ah, I see. The girl, or should I say woman."  
  
"There's something about her."  
  
"Indeed there is, but that's for her to tell you. What I was referring to was the primary goal of your trip."  
  
Logan laughed a deep sarcastic laugh.  
  
"You know as well as I Professor, that all I found were more questions. Yes, I unearthed the place where it happened. It almost destroyed me, seeing that place again, but I still don't know who did this to me. I'm beginning to wonder if I truly want to know."  
  
"Give it time Logan. Answers are sure to come."  
  
"Maybe you're right. But for the moment, all I want to do is forget whatever it is that want's me to remember."  
  
"Go to her Logan, but be warned. She has a power she does not know she possesses."  
  
Logan nodded, and left the room, a bit taken aback by the Professors warning. It was uncharacteristic of him to say such things, so logic would dictate that he had a good reason for doing so. Logan tried to shake off the notion that Charles was trying to tell him something without coming right out and saying whatever it was he saw in Marilyn's haunted eyes. He searched the hallway for her scent, letting that familiar trace of roses lead him to her. What luck, her room was right next to his. He stopped next to the door; inside he could hear Jean talking to Marilyn.  
  
"I think you will find the room quite adequate. The cafeteria is down the hall and to the left; it closes at nine every evening."  
  
"Thank you." Was Marilyn's only response.  
  
"My room is down the hall if you need anything. Four doors down to be exact."  
  
"Alright, then." Marilyn was being as brief as he had ever seen her. Logan smiled at the possibility that she couldn't wait for Jean to leave her new room. He wouldn't have to wait long. As she left she saw him standing outside the door. He gave her his trademark nod as she left. She smiled at him but he didn't notice, he had already entered Marilyn's room.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Logan!" She said as she turned from inspecting the room. "Ya know, I can't help but get the feelin' that she don't like me much."  
  
"It has to do with the company she keeps."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing, you'll find out soon enough."  
  
She smiled at him, her blue and gold eyes flashing. She turned to better look at her surroundings.  
  
"Well, it's bigger than m' room behind the bar. I wish I would 'ave had time to bring some more clothes though."  
  
"It was the same thing with me. I kind of just woke up here one day."  
  
Running laughter passed by outside her door. Marilyn turned to listen to it echo down the hallway. Genuine laughter wasn't something she was used to.  
  
"It's strange ya know. Just yesterday I was someone totally different."  
  
"It takes getting used to, this place."  
  
Logan moved close behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. She stayed pleasantly solid in his embrace. He held her for several long moments, breathing in her sweet scent all the little things only someone with his superb senses could detect. Marilyn almost felt herself falling into his arms. She reached up to hold his strong arms. The room had started spinning around her in a lovely way. All she could feel was his presence. In that moment nothing else mattered, not Australia, Canada, not any of the other places in-between.   
  
A deep rumbling in her belly caused Logan to finally let her go.  
  
"Hungry?" He asked moving to look at her face.  
  
"I'm bloody starving. Where's that cafeteria again?"  
  
Logan chuckled.  
  
"Down the hall to the left."  
  
"Let's go then." 


	5. Part Four: Bloody Memories

Part Four: Bloody Memories  
  
Logan lay in his bed in is room drenched in sweat. Soft animalistic gasps escaped his lips every few moments. The sound alone was enough to make your blood run cold. But the dreams that hid under the surface of such painful sleep were worse than hell.   
  
A flash! A green light, bubbles in champagne, or are those bubbles in front of my eyes. Someone is laughing. Why are they laughing? I can't move. I can't feel my hands. A face in darkness. Am I dead? Why can't I move? This is thicker than water. I can taste blood. I can taste blood.  
  
Marilyn woke in her own bed a room over to those awful sounds. She silently slipped out of her own bed wearing only her white panties and the tank top. She ran a hand through her mussed hair as she stepped out into the hall. She was immediately startled to see another figure standing outside Logan's room in her pajamas. It was the young girl she had met earlier in the day.   
  
Rogue looked at Marilyn with tears in her eyes.  
  
"Ah wish there was something Ah could do." Rogue's voice was a whisper. "Last time Ah tried to wake him, Ah almost killed us both." She said with a heavy heart. Marilyn frowned at that. She wrapped her arms around herself as if a chill had passed through her, although the climate-controlled mansion air hadn't changed.   
  
"Do you know why it happens?" Rogue asked Marilyn suddenly in a pain filled southern drawl.  
  
"I think 'e dreams bout the people who gave him 'is claws. I think they musta hurt him pretty badly, an' he can't member, so he 'as nightmares bout it." Marilyn's accent slipped into its unabated Aussie nature at three a.m. and she did little to try to make herself better understood.  
  
"Can't y'all do something? Please. He's breaking my heart."  
  
Marilyn nodded at Rogue, and opened the door. The dim light of the hallway illuminated Logan's twitching frame, tangled up in his bedclothes. Rogue slipped in behind her staying in the doorway.   
  
"I have an idea." Marilyn said coolly.  
  
"Wha…?"  
  
"Watch."  
  
Marilyn picked up one of Logan's boots that was lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor and tossed it on the bed. It landed with a thud next to Logan and produced the desired effect. Logan shot bolt upright in his bed, his claws instinctively unsheathing themselves. His eyes were blank with momentary madness and primal fear. His breath came out in heavy gasps and as his situation slowly dawned on him his claws slipped back into his hands with a snikt and his muscles visibly relaxed. The blood drained out of his face, and he reached up and put his head in his hands. Long, silent moments dragged by, each an eon in their own right. The air in the room was like trying to wade through thick mud. It left the soul tired, the bones weary, and breath short.  
  
Marilyn finally broke the standoff and went and sat beside Logan pulling a sheet over him and her half-naked self. Rogue came full into the room and switched on a soft lamp, and sat on a chair. Logan still did not speak.  
  
"I was living on the edge o' the outback with me mum when I first learned of my so called power. We had a small horse ranch and herded brumbys. It was, all in all, a good life, but things changed when I did. 'Aving what I though was a good relationship with my mum I went to her. I thought she would understand. I was wrong. She made it very clear that I was not to be accepted as I was. She turned me o'er to the government. Tests were done. I was prodded and poked and treated like a lab rat. Mutants were just starting to appear in the world. Scientists did'n know what to make of me. I was afraid. I didn't know what was happing to me either. That's why I let the tests go on for so long. That was nearly thirty years ago. I stopped aging about twenty years ago. Well, I think I still age, but it's so slow now that I ne'er see it happen.   
  
When it became apparent that the doctors could'na help me I ran. It was easy to escape. Even if I didn't have very good control of my powers at that time. I simply walked out. I wish it would 'ave ended there. I was hunted night and day. I did'n have the means to flee the country or I would 'ave. I crossed the continent five times o'er, tryin' 't escape my captors. I 'ad become their prized experiment. The thing they were going to win Nobel prizes for figuring out. I ceased to be a person then. I became a ghost. I was always looking o'er m' shoulder I was just as haunted as m' namesake.   
  
It didn' stop there I made ma' way to America. I thought I could hide 'er, but I missed open spaces. I moved to a wee town in Montana right on the border. But I got found out an eventually some one musta' got me cos I awoke one morning with a collar round m' neck that suppressed m' powers. I was chained and gagged and taken to some sort of laboratory. How long I was there I don't know. I 'ave very little memories of that time. The most vivid one I 'ave is of being tied to a table with a hood o'er m' head. I could see out of the bottom a bit. There was a tube going into m' arm. I was drugged m' head felt heavy and I was 'aving a hard time staying awake, but I was painfully aware of everything. The tube in my arm 'ad blood in it, and it was goin' into me. On m' other side m' own blood was being drained outa me. It was some kind of transfusion. Why, I don' know, but I do know that the blood that flows through m' veins is no longer m' own. After that I could heal almost any wound I got nearly instantly. I think that's also when I stopped aging. I don't know who was on the other end of that tube, but whoever it was 'as saved m' life more than once.  
  
Things happened. I don't know what did it, or why, but late one evening all the power went out. The collar round m' neck just dropped off. Like someone flipped a switch. That was when I made m' final escape. Without the collar, there was nothing 't keep me an once again I went invisible and just walked out. I been running ever since. I don't know if they're still chasing me or not. That was, maybe, fifteen years ago, and I been runnin' for a long time. I went back eventually, t' try and figure out wha' happened"  
  
The air was thick after Marilyn's story. Logan had visibly gone pale. Her story touching too deeply on what might have happened to him. He shook his head slowly trying to dislodge his own faded memories form his brain.   
  
"Where… were you? When you escaped, where were you?"  
  
"Canada."   
  
"Canada…." He repeated in a muttered tone, beginning to shake slightly. Rogue's eyes grew big. Marilyn, again, spoke.  
  
"It was you wasn' it? You were on the other side of that tube, and it was you who made it possible for me 't escape."   
  
"I… I don't know. It could have been. I don't remember."  
  
"Gosh! This is all to far out. Y'all mean ya know each other?" Rogue piped in, eyes as large as saucers.  
  
"Sorta," Marilyn answered. "Let's just say. We been through a lot o' the same things at the same time, and don't member to much bout it."   
  
Logan was still visibly shaken. To find someone who had been through it too. It was quite possible that when he escaped the power had gone out, and caused Marilyn's collar to deactivate. Lord knows how many others had escaped that dark night. Most likely it was just the two of them, and Marilyn only because of her power. Logan, himself, had hacked his way out with bloody hands and a fist full of metal. He remembered little of that dark night.   
  
Silence again invaded the room. The trio mulled over each of their pasts. Thoughts invading the cool air of the night. Much was left unspoken, but a common bond had formed between Logan, Marilyn, and Rogue, who was now a witness to their shared pain. 


	6. Part Five: Morning in the Mansion

Part Five: Morning in the Mansion  
  
The morning came early to the mansion. Some had rested well, those lucky souls woke to a bright morning and a fresh coat of snow as they rubbed sleep from their eyes, yawning and stretching their backs. As early risers made their way to the cafeteria for breakfast, three companions slept in late two huddled together, with another curled in a ball at the foot of a double bed.  
  
In another part of the mansion, behind hidden doors, deep under ground, Professor Charles Xaviar meet with a small group of mutants, he considered his closest friends and partners in the fight for mutant freedom.   
  
"So, Charles, you say Logan brought someone here with him from Canada?'" Scott Summers looked dubious. He couldn't imagine anyone traveling with a man he considered one of the rudest people on earth. Let along a beautiful woman.  
  
"That's right Scott. I haven't had an opportunity to speak with her yet, but from what I gathered from her thoughts she's had a long journey in her life."   
  
"Well, Professor, aside from our recent addition we've got another problem on our hands. The young man calling himself Gambit accidentally blew up the door to his room, and now we need to replace it." Jean, business like as always, was concerned about the young man. He had only been a guest in the mansion for two weeks and already he had blown up four lunch trays, nine textbooks, three shoes, one class turtle, and now the door to his room. Other than those accidents he was a charming young man from down south who belonged to the old southern moral code of honor, yet had a rebellious streak that made Jean believe that the so called textbook accidents were not really accidents at all. He seemed to have a natural way with the ladies and a sort of feline grace about him. His power was a bit dangerous since he couldn't yet totally control it. He could charge intimate objects with energy making their atoms unstable, usually resulting in explosions.  
  
"I admire your concern with the young man Jean, but Remy will learn to control his power in good time. Until then, we will continue to replace the things he inadvertently destroys. It's not been terribly dangerous yet, unless you're a turtle. We'll set him aside to help him learn to control his ability and soon these things won't occur. Jean, you and Storm should help him when she returns.   
  
Scott, I'd like you to see to getting him a new door. Have it up by the end of the day so he won't have to be moved, and I'd also like you to talk to Ghost when she wakes up, which should be in the next few hours. Then give her some money so she can purchase some new clothes. She left in a hurry."   
  
With Xaviar's orders in place the morning meeting broke up. Scott headed off in search of a door, and Jean left muddled in her own thoughts taking a roundabout way to her laboratory. Back in Logan's room the trio began to awake, starting with Rogue, who was momentarily concerned with missing class, until she remembered it was Saturday. 


End file.
